


Beauty in the Breakdown

by xSilentHarmony



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: AU After the Train Scene, Angst, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Multi, Steve Rogers as the Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 13:34:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6286678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xSilentHarmony/pseuds/xSilentHarmony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You and the Germans, you have your super- soldiers, your secret weapons... but we Russians, we have nothing but our winter.” -- Vasily Karpov</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The chill seeps deep within his bones. It settles there, creating a coldness he can never let go of.</p>
<p>When Steve wakes up, he’s not sure if it’s by the luck of God or if it’s the work of the devil.<br/><br/><br/>AU from the train scene in CA:TFA on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beauty in the Breakdown

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was originally meant to be my entry for the Stucky Big Bang, but as I was thinking it over more, I realized it was way too in depth to probably finish in time for the Big Bang. This idea was highly inspired by [this post](http://spitandvinegar.tumblr.com/post/138398346718/what-are-these-fics-that-you-want-to-read), and I only hope I can do it justice. The idea is this: "A Steve-as-Winter soldier story that really digs into him as the soldier instead of it being all about a happy reunion with Bucky. I’m really fascinated by the idea because I think he’d be a much, much scarier winter soldier than Bucky: he’s such an angry person and has so little regard for his personal safety, and I think he’d be way more passionate about whatever Cause they told him he was fighting for, like he’d be this deranged Soviet terminator who’d get half his face blown off and just. Keep. Coming. Captain Communism I want it I need it"
> 
> I'd like to thank [ashley_vh](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashley_vh/pseuds/Ashley_vh) for beta-ing! 
> 
> If you'd like to follow me on tumblr for more updates, you can [follow here](http://osh-my-prince.tumblr.com)! Word of advice, my tumblr is pretty much split right now between marvel and kpop. I'd also like to say that I am in the midst of finishing a thesis, so until I get that finished, updates might be a little sporadic, but I will be done by the end of March, so it'll only be sporadic momentarily!
> 
> Thank you all for reading! Hope you enjoy!

_“You and the Germans, you have your super- soldiers, your secret weapons... but we Russians, we have nothing but our winter.” — Vasily Karpov_

The chill seeps deep within his bones. It settles there, creating a coldness he can never let go of.

When Steve wakes up, he’s not sure if it’s by the luck of God or if it’s the work of the devil.

The room is dark. A single light, flickering on and off, hangs from the middle of the room. A thick smell of fresh paint still lingers in the air, the mark from the paint seen in the middle of the room where it splits the room in half. On the side that Steve wakes up on, the walls are blank concrete; on the other side, tiles cover the walls. He rubs his arms, hoping to will some of the chill off of his bones. Ever since he woke up, he’s been chilled to the bone.

Maybe this is Heaven.

Awfully bland to be Heaven though, from what Steve’s always been told.

He pushes himself off the ground. He groans and grasps his head. The room spins, and he collapses back onto the ground. He squeezes his eyes shut.

Where is he?

He goes back to the mission. It should’ve been easy. Drop in, get Zola, and get off the train.

He remembers a bright blue light. It pushes against him—he’d tried to deflect with the shield, but it did no good—and he’s sent flying outside the side of the train car, his shield left inside the train car. He grips his head tighter like he did with the piece of the train keeping him from falling thousands of feet into the Alps.

Bucky… he’d reached for him.

“Bucky,” he whispers. He opens his eyes. He has to find him. He struggles to his feet, and he stumbles to the door that sits past the line on the floor.

He knows why the line’s there the second he crosses it.

A scream rips through him as sharp pain cascades up his legs. He collapses to the ground, his right shoulder connecting with the cement ground that’s sending pain upon pain through his body. He is stuck with every cascade of electricity running up his body.

He tries to pull his hands from the ground, but the constant ripples of electricity coursing through him leave him with little more to do than to scream. He fights to breathe; every gasp leaves him with less air to push through his mouth. It is as if someone has set cement blocks on his chest. He knows he won’t last long if the electricity does not stop.

It’s then that it turns off. He crumples into a heap, knowing that if they turn it on again, it’ll hurt even more.

“Captain Rogers, we would advise you against stepping to that side of the room,” a voice says over an intercom. The English the voice speaks is filled with a thick accent. It’s an accent that Steve’s become familiar with during the war.

He rolls onto his back, loud gasps escaping his lips as he tries to move his body to see how far he is from the line.

There won’t be much time before whoever is controlling things outside the door turns it back on, surely.

Definitely not Heaven, Steve tells himself.

Hydra, then?

His heart punches against his chest. Oh, God. How can he face Hydra when one wrong move sends volts upon volts of electricity coursing through his body?

_I have to move…_

He forces everything into rolling the couple of feet onto the bare side of the room.

When his body crosses the line, he rolls once more just to be safe.

“Wh—who are you? Wh—where am I?” Where’s Bucky, he doesn’t ask. They might’ve gotten him, but surely they didn’t get Bucky. He was still on the train last Steve remembers.

Bucky had to be safe. He had to—

“You are in a secure facility,” they reply. Steve forces himself to think more about the accent that follows every word. It’s an accent that Steve’s become familiar with from the warfront.

But it wasn’t from the German side.

He opens his eyes once more, his eyebrows drawing together. What would the Russians want with him?

When he finally finds enough strength, he pushes himself up again. He groans at his feet touching the cold ground and limps as he looks at the ceiling. Surely the intercom is there somewhere. “What do you want with me?” Sure he worked side-by-side with the Russians, but that doesn’t mean he trusted them at all. Especially with this room they’re keeping him in.

Why lock an ally up in a room that shocks the living shit out of them if they make one wrong move?

With no response, Steve swallows and looks around the room once more. The light’s flickering is getting worse, and the smell is starting to get to him. At least he knows it is the Russians.

“Do you know what happened to Sergeant Barnes?” the voice over the intercom asks.

Steve stops.

No. No, he is fine. The last thing Steve saw was Bucky safe on that train; he was fine

Before he can answer, a loud noise began whirring in the room. A light emerges from a hole and reflects on the wall with the tiles on it. A photo emerges. It’s a newspaper. Under the large title sits a picture of Bucky looking forward, his eyes gazing off like Steve had seen so many other soldiers look. The title of the article, though, is what causes tears to stream down his face.

**BARNES DISAPPEARS.**

“No!” Steve stands. He doesn’t approach the line in the middle of the room, but he turns his face up to the ceiling once more. It’s like a hand grasps his heart, forcing it to beat even harsher against his chest. It grips his lungs, forcing every bit of air out of his body and making it next to impossible to inhale again. It’s not electric running through his body that’s making his body freeze with terror, however. “He’s not dead! I left him alive on that train!”

“Look at the date, Captain Rogers.”

Steve looks back at the photo, tears blurring his vision. He steps closer, his feet inching closer to that line, but not breaking it.

**Monday, March 5, 1945** .

Shaking his head, Steve says, “No. It’s still 1944.”

The voice merely chuckles. “On the contrary, Captain Rogers. You may have fallen in 1944, but while the rest of the world moved on, it was us that found you and saved you. And it did not happen in a day.”

Steve staggers, groaning as his feet touch the ground with every new move.

Surely they can’t be telling the truth… How easy is it to fake a newspaper headline? They couldn’t have done anything to Bucky. No.

“No, he’s okay,” Steve says. “You’re lying to me.” He bites his lip as he tightens his hand into a fist.

The light in the middle of the room swings left and right in the silence, the single light moving Steve’s shadow underneath him. The loud whirring noise shuts off, and the grainy image of the newspaper disappears from the wall.

The light shuts off, and Steve’s left in a black abyss, his mind running with thoughts of Bucky.

**Author's Note:**

> The newspaper heading mentioned is a reference to the one that's seen in TWS. 


End file.
